


Love in the time of Malice

by Khatndlawa



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Dream Sequence, Enemies to Lovers, Episode: s02e10 Mirror Mirror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mirrorverse, Tarsus IV mentions, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25646059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khatndlawa/pseuds/Khatndlawa
Summary: “(Jim) was forced to grip his throat, breathing so heavily that he bent over and fresh tears dripped from his face.It was only killing.He’d done it so many times before, with Pike it had been the simple movement of his hand- with an ensign it was not enough for even mild disquiet, yet now he fought the rising, terrible panic that gripped him every time he tried.“Spock is forced at odds with his Captain when he decides that he wants to carry out the wishes of Jim’s counterpart (set after the episode).
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock, Mirror James T. Kirk/Mirror Spock
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	1. “You’re insane”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of “Mirror, Mirror,” Spock abducts his captain in order to facilitate a change of plan concerning the Halkans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two paragraphs of first POV (Jim) are in bold- and the flashback from the Starfleet universe is in italics

“I don’t want to kill you,” Spock says. Jim fixes him with a cold frantic look that is obviously meant to be hidden.   
”Correction,” and Spock is straightening, perfectly, infuriatingly composed. “I will not kill you under any circumstances, nor will I allow anyone else to.”

Surprise and fear are pulsing in the bound Captain’s eyes- He is not resisting the restraints that hold him, but his face is alert with raging instinct as he looks up at his First Officer, whose expression is almost empty, and his mind is swirling, thoughts a frenzy.

What could his counterpart possibly have been like, to wreak this havoc? Had he been similar to the Spock _he_ had seen, who had security and love in his eyes as well as haughtiness and a little joy?

He wished he could see those things in his first officer’s eyes, but instead they were black and filled with a strange feistiness. _Unpredictable_ feistiness.

“What did he say to you?!” The question tore from Jim’s lips- and his anger was clear, finally finding release in his words.

“He told me that my very existence is illogical and wasteful. I found his beliefs sound, as I have always found yours, Captain.”

“I swear you’ll regret this, Commander,” Jim pulled uselessly against the ropes on his wrist. He could remember the angry words he’d spoken to Spock's counterpart, and he shouted them, filling them with conviction he did not feel.

“You traitorous pig! I’ll hang you up by your Vulcan ears!”

Spock smiled. “Even so, Captain,” he said.

“Spock,” Jim glared.“What could you possibly want? A ship of your own? Whatever you ask for, I can get it!”

Spock's eyes softened imperceptibly. “I want you to spare the Halkans.”

“That’s madness.”

“Join me.” There was a rare flash in Spock's black eyes as they made contact with Jim’s- momentary but blinding.

~~

“You’re insane.” Jim says, his thoughts a rush. Perhaps he should agree and kill Spock with the tantalus field, but somehow the idea of Spock dead causes him to choke. Spock disappearing, gone forever.

His throat closes and he desperately sputters against the pressure on his windpipe.

He has killed before, and his Vulcan could soon become the cause of his own death. What is this terror, abject and relentless?

He is breathless. He cannot open his mouth to agree to Spock's proposition, he cannot smile winningly, as he must to convince Spock of his sincerity. His entire face has been robbed of movement, his eyes will not twinkle with confidence, his lie has been stolen from him.

The firmly settled fear bursts in his chest as Spock steps over to the tantalus field and removes the panel that covers it.

“How?!” He whispers, desperately.

“Your counterpart, Jim.”

Jim flushes, embarrassment on his cheeks before he can suppress it. His contrasting feelings are too much for him to manage.

Marlena. He should have killed her. He should have known allowing her into his private quarters was dangerous.

He should have known.

Now he is dead, his eyes fixed on Spock's pale fingers, which are inches away from the control panel, the commander's lithe form tense and almost motionless. His Vulcan knows, and he cannot hide it from him, the glint of knowledge ever present in those steely black eyes. They are content, considering.

“Get it over with.” Jim croaks.

“I told you, I will not kill you nor will I allow Starfleet to order your death, Captain.”

“Why?” As his understanding fades, he clings desperately to it."Why?"

“Because it would be a waste.” Spock's eyes twinkle, almost. Clearly something new drives him, he has found a new purpose.

__________

**I want to know what he told you, my counterpart. Alternate Spock called me brutish and cruel, is that what alternate Jim called you?**

**Were his eyes fiery with life and freedom, and risk and love? The Spock I saw seemed to miss fire, seemed to look for something clearly lacking in my eyes, almost despairing.**

**How I wish to be my counterpart. Perhaps even now he smiles, his first officer’s eyebrow cocking in amusement at his words. Perhaps now those eyes long no more..**

**_alternate Spock was..._ **

____

_"Are you well, Captain? You seem..." this Spock's face was so exposed, as were his eyes, longing and troubled._

_"I am satisfactory, Commander" the words had dripped like poison from Jim's lips- and the lost look in those eyes grew, confused and open._

_Jim felt the ingrained urge to strike flare in his chest, and he hissed like a trapped creature._

_"Return to your work, Commander, or I'll have you sent to the agony booth,"_

_He could have sworn he saw a flinch as those eyes swelled with feeling._

_"Of course, Sir,"_

_And Spock stepped past him, his hand brushing over Jim's shoulder._

_Jim turned his head angrily, shifting to stand, but the brief pressure transformed into a sharp pinch, and he felt his senses falter traitorously, sending him into darkness._

_He could feel, through the dark, a pair of hands supporting him by gripping his shoulders, his head falling backward as his awareness was torn from him._

___

**My first officer said he will not murder me, but why? He has me tied, my right wrist and ankle to a table leg, my left to my bed. I am incapable of moving, or sitting, and he stands at his full height, tall, looking at me with that twinkle in his eyes.**

**I wish to spit in his face and trounce his vulnerability.**

**I wish to tell him sweet lies and eliminate him forever, so that no man may ever be able to treat me with such-**

**To look in my eyes with _such_ -**

**Spock is completely composed and straight faced, with routine in his bearing- but there is belief in his wide black eyes, belief in something useless and unreliable.**

**I smile, almost tiredly.**

**Commander, you should know better than to place your life in the hands of something so fragile.**

**Truth can never be held in such fire.**

————

Hours later, he heard the door open, and then shut. His black eyed Vulcan walked near him, and he raised his head, which had been hanging in front of him. His eyes were bitter and ready to fight for his life, for his freedom.

They glinted with a reflected green, from the display across from him, and he said nothing.

"Jim," the voice was quiet, as though Spock were asking, as though he were petitioning his friend instead of addressing a man who he had left bound, unable to move, or to sit.

"Are you going to allow me to eat? It's been hours,"

"Of course Jim," the Vulcan knelt, and drew his knife from his boot, cutting his prisoner's hands free. Jim leaned on the ground, regaining his balance, and to his surprise, Spock cut the ropes around his ankles.

There was a moment in which there was no movement.

And Jim sprang foreword, knocking Spock to the wall and fitting his hand around Spock's throat.

"I should have you killed," he hissed, pressing foreword.

Spock didn't move, instead watching the look of ecstasy in Jim's eyes as he held him to the wall.

"As it is it'll be hours in the agony booth, first officer, and I'll decide what to do with you afterwards,"

Still nothing, and Jim leaned in, watching his FO’s face "Your Vulcan composure will do you no good, if you don't show something I'll leave you there till you die. Surely you'll give in, Commander, not to would be _illogical_ ," he said the last word teasingly, far too close to Spock's face.

When he began to reach for the agonizer, Spock's free hand rose, grabbing Jim's throat and flipping their positions with such easy momentum that Jim gasped under the Vulcan strength.

"I have orders to kill you, Captain." He said, veiled concern shimmering in his eyes. " If you were to leave this room, the ship would have your life in a moment."

_Captain?!_

"Captain, please, have some sense. Sit on the bed. Was not my action one of faith?" the hand on his windpipe loosened and suddenly he was standing, gasping.

_Why does he call me that?!_

Spock sat, gesturing next to him.

Jim's heart raced as he considered his options.

He had gotten the strength to threaten the Vulcan, he had really meant it, and he had been crushed like a child.

He did not sit, instead eyeing Spock like a canon about the explode, taking note of the locations of the various weapons in the room- the knife on the floor, Spock's agonizer, and the tantalus field.

Good god, the tantalus field. The Knife would maim, the agonizer would torture- but the tantalus field would destroy every trace of one's existence.

The thought was worse than Spock's hand on his throat had been, and he felt it again, at the thought of killing his Vulcan, the pressing loss of oxygen, that feeling, overpowering him.

He could not lose-

He would not allow-

He bent over and clutched at his throat, and Spock stood up and rushed to him.

"Have I harmed you, captain?"

The concern in his eyes had grown so strong it looked as though they would spill over.

"Are you alright? I cannot call the doctor-" those eyes were wide and tinged with brown.

"Why are you calling me Captain?" he rasped, standing and recovering his stance. "Who is commanding-"

"It's me, for now, Jim." Spock's eyes didn’t return to normal. "Should I find some way to get Dr. McCoy?"

“I’m alright,” he found himself saying, and he found himself flopping backwards into the bed.

He could not think, the swirling fear from thoughts of the tantalus field still present. He rubbed the side of his neck as though trying to rid himself of the feeling.

“Thank you, Captain.” The words ripped him from his revery, and he looked into Spock’s eyes.

What was this? What was this madness he could see?

“Spock.” He said, his attention returning. “What has come over you?” His gaze was level and his eyes piercing.

“I have told you already.” Said the Vulcan gently. “What more do you wish to know?”

“What more? You have told me nothing.” He laces his hands together on his knees, still shaking slightly, although he is trying painfully hard to stop. “Spock.” It is the first time he has said the name since their encounter began, and the word is filled with a hidden affection.

“I wish for you to join me and make a reappearance as the Captain. I will support you.” Spock looks down as he says this. “However, you will not destroy the Halkans. We will run from the empire, and we will put an end to it.”

Spock’s eyes- how he can describe them as Spock looks up and they pierce him? They terrify him, and he hopes the vulnerability does not leak, is not contagious. It is near him, and he must escape.

“Jim, do you not understand?”

Surely, in a moment, Jim will force himself to breathe.He will make himself, if he can only pause and concentrate on the the rise and fall of his chest, on the pressure of his hand as he grasps futilely at his throat.

Jim should agree, of course. He should agree and kill the damn man, have him taken to the agony booth. He can easily act out the threat. All he has to do is agree, all he has to do is lie.

He has done it many times before, he has taken men’s lives, twisting the knife and smiling at them as they drained away, and yet he cannot stomach his thoughts.  
  
He looks down, trying to keep himself from moving further away on the mattress, to keep himself from running.

He knows the door is behind him, but he cannot even look.

“First Officer. I accept your offer.” He speaks so quietly that only Spock could hear him. He does not know whether he means it. “Please, allow me to sleep.”

“You cannot go to your quarters.” Spock says, and his voice has a new something that can cannot be described. It is relieved, softly glowing with gratitude. “I will mediate, please stay here.”

Will his first officer murder him in his sleep? Spock says he does not wish for the position, but that does not erase the fact that the opportunity will be tempting while his captain lays so weak in slumber...

What can Jim do? He cannot go back to his own quarters- surely his entire crew will be waiting for him there. Even if it is safe, there is no guarantee that Spock will not rush him now and kill him with his eyes open. Perhaps the door is locked, perhaps one look at it from him will end his breath.

“Captain, please relax. You require a certain amount of rest in order to function,“

There is nothing he can do.

If he sleeps at least he will be able to think when he wakes.

“Fine.” This behavior is unacceptable. He is being submissive in front of his first, he ought to stand and refuse, and threaten until he is taken back to his quarters. Instead he turns and stumbles to Spock’s bed, climbing in without undoing his sash- simply removing his boots and nearly covering himself completely in bedding.

He does not want his face to be visible, does not want his tranquil helpless features seen.

He is under the hot pillows, in a room with a temperature set to mimic Vulcan, but he is asleep in moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Spirk fic, and it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything- so I apologize for any errors- in spelling, in cannon, etc.


	2. “If you fail, Mr. Spock...”

Jim shoots upwards in bed, his eyes glazed, a shout escaping him.

Spock is roused from his meditation, and he stands to find Jim in the midst of a nightmare- shaking, his back as straight as a board, shying backwards as though being borne down upon by a terrible beast.

Jim is disheveled. His vest is twisted sideways and wrinkled- his hair is a tangled mess, and his bleary eyes are wide.Their hazel hue is bright, brighter than it should be, and it makes Spock want to lean in close and _study_ them. He wants that spark of terror to fade and bright power to grow.

Better yet, he wants to run his hand through that golden hair until Jim closes his eyes completely and falls back into a slumber. He wants to put his hand on top of the Captain’s and send so much reassurance and _comfort_ through their skin that the Captain forgets the world and knows he is safe- so much sweetness that Spock will see him with lax features and a trusting mouth..

He can imagine the expression, and it fills him with a desire to embrace the shaking form before him.

He wants to build this man’s trust and hold it like precious china - he wants to treasure it, but he knows that nothing precious ever lasts- and he does not want Jim dead.

He does not wish to allow Jim’s dream to continue. At this point, inaction is illogical, but he knows the captain will consider it a breach of privacy if he is touched. He raises his hand to the clothed bit of his vest and says loudly,

“Jim.”

The shaking ceases. Jim’s eyes clear and widen as he looks at Spock, who wears a concerned expression, his hand still on the Captain’s shoulder.

_“Don’t touch me.”_

Those eyes are no longer wide, but Spock can see that Jim is considering what could have leaked though the touch. “You-“

Spock nods his head slightly in apology.  
“It was only your sleeve. I cannot gain any sense of your emotions through your clothing.”

Jim does not respond. He cannot show how he feels, he does not want to let on that he has something to hide, and yet-

All Spock would have to do is touch his bare shoulder, and he would know.

God forbid, he could _know..._ He could have touched his face, and-

Jim is not even sure if he has something to hide, but he cannot think of killing the man before him without becoming sick to his stomach...  
  
~~~  
****

Spock fired his phaser twice, both times nearly missing the shoulders of the ensign under him. The boy squirmed, looking at the marks that were etched into the floor, both inches away from his neck.

"The Captain and I have come to an agreement," Spock said, half smiling down at his ambitious prey. "You will obey Captain Kirk or we will end you."

Kirk was standing near the turbolift door, looking appraisingly around the bridge and at his first officer’s work. Most of the crew was stationary, and wary glances were exchanged by all parties.

"Would anyone else wish to challenge my command?" his eyes were flashing with intense power and confidence, but the words were quiet. He took a step foreword.

"Mr. Chekov, plot a course away from the planet. There should be more detailed instructions on record,"

The navigation officer looked mollified, but upon returning the Captain's gaze, he gave his hesitant “aye sir,” and Jim took a seat in his chair.

Spock, still standing, looked down and removed his foot from the boy's chest. "The booth," he said. There was no regret in his voice, but something marred his syllables as he stepped behind his Captain. 

Jim could feel Spock’s presence at his back, watching for further attempts on his command. The ship’s atmosphere was volatile- their hold on power fragile. Half the crew expected Mr. Spock to make the attempt himself, and they were surprised when Jim allowed him to stand by his back.

Spock would not kill him then and there. Spock would wait, Spock was a patient bastard.

Jim knew the empire would be after them now that their orders had been disobeyed, and he knew it was likely he would loose the crew’s compliance fairly soon.

For now, this show of loyalty and trust on both of their parts was the most stable thing he possessed.

"Spock," he smiled, his voice like honey, turning towards the man, who stood silently behind him like a sentinel.

_I do not know what you want, but I know it involves waiting before you kill me, and using me like a puppet._

_You stand there like some saint, clad in black._

_A guard who I willingly expose my back to, but someday, those long fingers will be the end of me...._

~~~

"You still cannot sleep alone in your quarters." Spock’s voice did not hold obvious frustration- but it was beginning to become more insistent.

"I do not trust you that much, Mr. Spock."

"You know as well as I that you cannot sleep alone, Jim."

Jim closed his eyes and tried to ignore the informal address. Was it a show of power? An insistence that, should Jim turn his head, Spock could have him on the floor in a moment?

Jim had the tantalus field now, and he would use it. He would not let Spock do anything to him. He ought to go back to his quarters, right now, and-

 _God_ , he could not breathe, and his stomach roiled and his heart began to beat uselessly against his chest in a call for air.

"Captain?"

"Commander," Jim could not resist pulling the word foreword, as if trying to remind Spock of their stations.

He did need a guard, and Spock was already responsible for him during the day. What was the harm in extending his duties to the night? It did not increase his safety to sleep alone, for Spock did not need him alone to kill him.

”Fine, Commander. But, if I am going to take your ‘ _orders’_ , then I am going to have to give you a substantial amount of navigation duty,”

Spock was a science officer, but he excelled at navigation as much as the officers who worked in that department.

”Our route takes us through a substantial patch of Klingon space,” said Spock quietly.

”That’s right.” Jim’s cocky malice shone as he stood and strode over to Spock, who was sitting on the bed. “And if you fail, Mr. Spock...” he hissed, reaching down to touch his fingers lightly to the agonizer on his first’s belt, sliding his hand entirely onto it, meetings those eyes... 


	3. Bloom

_He had been filled with the impression of stomping on his first officer's hand and listening to the sharp wince, empty, and..._

_"Captain-"_

_In the dream the voice was weak and betrayed, and he could feel it spiking in his chest, the revulsion, and he coughed.._

_"Die now," he felt himself whisper, as though propelled by an outside force,his lips dragged over the words, and he had woken as he slammed his foot down towards-_

_..._

He woke with his first officer holding his hand suspended in front of them.

"You!" he practically growled, his eyes widening. Spock sat cross legged in front of him, as though he had not expected Jim to wake at having his hand taken. He was propped up, one leg bent with his knee foreword, the other tucked underneath it.

He let the hand fall.

"I know you will not believe me, Captain, but I was only calming your dream. I did not feel anything besides your panic and-" he cut off, before reforming his sentence. "I do not know what the dream was about, nor do I wish to read your thoughts or..." he paused "intentions."

Spock _knew_. He knew that Jim was trying to find it in himself now that he had regained the captaincy, to go against him. Why did he sit there and do nothing, so sheepishly, as though taking his hand had been a horrible crime? _There is no crime, that is why I should be able to kill you, without doing this to myself. Why I should be able to control my eyes when I am with you, why I shouldn't feel my heart break along with your knuckles in the dream. Why, I curse myself as I play the same part, over and over- in various ways- why I always destroy your hand, and why your voice is always so weak and oh-_

_The pain flowers in the center of my chest at the sound of you broken..._

~~~

“Commander,” Jim said, looking at the Vulcan’s face- which was apologetic and guilty- “Obviously you did not see the dream,” he found himself smirking, and the apology on Spock’s face changed slightly, now a bit confused.  
“You may not be lying, you impudent _freak_ , but the moment you touch me again-“ Jim stopped, and raised his hand into the air as though teasing with it, his eyes foreword, holding it suspended...

Spock found himself watching it, wishing to lift it again, and lovingly press it to his lips, bringing it close to his face, bringing his own hand to Jim’s forehead, their mouths together and their hearts beating in tandem...

He looked down rather abruptly, and Jim’s smirk widened. “I’ll send you away. It doesn’t matter if you find me curled in a ball screaming my mother’s name.”

 _Send you away._ It was a surprisingly tame threat, and yet he felt himself go stock still at the thought.

“Of course,” He said, and Jim could not help but notice the special bearing with which he said it.  
It was as though Spock were distancing himself from the order, despite the fact that he would follow it.

And Jim was not disappointed to know his First would carry it out. He did not feel a spark of warmth at the thought of his Commander's kindness, nor did he feel a strange longing to know it would be tempered. He was the Captain of a starship after all, and Spock was a threat. That was all there was too it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in a pig’s eye


	4. His quarry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In their quarters on another night...

Spock cannot help but imagine kissing him, the soft cry he would make into their mouths-

He wants to know what it would be like to love this man, to have is love in return and lay spent beneath him- the beat of his heart near Spock’s ear- the feel of their hands touching, the sight of that face without the vestiges of cruelty.

To see that Captain Kirk was alive- had not died simply from seeing so many others do so, from murdering his mentor- from the dreams which Spock would never see-

Spock wanted to see them, he realized. He wanted to see them so he could heal this man’s heart, so he could know him better than anyone else, create him anew like a child, cradle him in his arms and whisper lullabies, barely music and almost words.

I _cherish_ thee.

Oh dear, there is not only loss, but beauteous, beauteous wonder. I did not believe in it either, until I met you.

Spock is not meditating, he has not begun. Instead, he watches Kirk sleep, resisting the urge to climb onto the bed and fold his love into his arms.

_T’hy’la._

_Ashayam._

_Your counterpart saw my eyes and said,_

_"He is not so very different from our own Mr. Spock."_

_I could hear it in his voice- the soft sound- sweet and free. He meant-_

_Even here, Spock loves me too._

——-

Spock stands and dresses, in black that is sheened so softly that it is almost silk, and steps outside the room- his head whirling so desperately that it is as though he expects Jim to hear him.

 _Ashayam, ashayam, ashayam_.

He must calm his heart. The world is not made of china, china so breakable and thin. The stony look in his captain’s eyes is vital- or he could die, and Spock cannot imagine-

He shuts the door, perhaps too loudly, but he can hear no sound from the room as he pauses in the doorway.

Sulu is behind him. He has slunk into the darkness, thinking himself hidden, poised to sneak into the sleeping captain and first officer’s room where their ranks had lain exposed.

Spock steps foreword, his fist closing over Sulu’s knife and a hiss escaping him.

_You bastard, my ashaya is alone and helpless-_

Sulu is stumbling backwards as Vulcan strength is utilized to shove him into a corridor, and Spock wants to kill- not just the agony booth, but death.

He pushes his quarry against the wall- Sulu's wrists held to his side in the vice-like grip, and the dark ghost leans into his face, whispering,

“Commander Sulu,”

There is joy in causing fear- joy replicated to replace the guilt and anger. If he had come minutes later the Captain would be alone, peacefully sleeping- the first time this week he did not wake shouting and struggling against some invisible menace.

The Captain’s empty face would have been available for Sulu to see, and fire _burns_ his insides.

Sulus wrists are bruising under what is a simple restraint, and he is wincing in pain. Spock growls, pulls one of the wrists from the wall, and squeezes it with such abandon that the commander screams.

One of Spock’s hands rises and covers Sulu’s mouth.

_You goddamned bastard. He is beautiful, and you would destroy that. You are proof that this world is such a useless waste-_

_It is sheer luck that my love is alive._

Spock pinches his neck and leaves him exposed in the corridor. Then, he turns and quietly goes back into his room.

It does not matter how long he watches those eyes- closed- eyelashes soft and begging for touch- does not matter how much his heart screams to comfort and how much warmth seeps through his chest, he must go on portraying nothing.

And truly he is only angry because if it were not for sheer luck, there would be more waste, and more loss, and his captain would lay bloody in his sheets, his face empty in such a different way, his eyes unseeing, unfeeling, nothing- gone-

Spock must silence his own sound of sorrow by clapping his hand to his mouth.


	5. Reticence

“Today is the day we cross the neutral zone, Captain” Spock said, that morning, pausing before he turned to leave their quarters.

“You are _invaluable_. And _clever_ too, my first officer.”

The words were whispered from the bed, and the Captain’s head was titled in the grey, simulated light of mid-morning. His eyes did not gleam, but they were visible when they should not have been.

“Perhaps you will outlive me, snap my jaw with your nimble Vulcan hands. Is that what you are saying, Commander? That I should watch my back, but even if I do, I am no match for a deft finger pressed ever so slightly to that blue button in my quarters?”

“Captain, I implied no such thing, I simply wished to intimate that I will be busy today, and to gain your order.”

Intimate?

The captain smiled cruelly.

“My order has nothing to do with it, Commander,” he practically growled. “You ensured that I would run the moment you tied me to my own bed.”

Spock was too adept to flinch, to take the bait.

“Sir, I understand that this is permission to enact your orders.”

“Oh, of course it is, Mr. Spock,”

~~~

For hours that day Jim sat choking in front of the tantalus field. He even failed to come to the bridge when they were forced to evade a Klingon ship.

There were tears on his face, honest to god tears, and it was unacceptable. His eyes were bright red, and-

He looked down, trying to recover, forget the panel in front of him, to lift his hand, slowly, not looking...

Instead, he was forced to grip his throat, breathing so heavily that he bent over and fresh tears dripped from his face.

It was only killing.

He’d done it so many times before, with Pike it had been the simple movement of his hand- with an ensign it was not enough for even mild disquiet, yet now he fought the rising, terrible panic that gripped him every time he tried.

It was a button, goddamn it! He should be able to focus on the physical motion, that circle of plastic alone- lift his hand slightly and do something so mundane and simple.

Yet, through the screen he could see the concentrated curve of his first officer’s mouth as he tried to avoid the dangerous tracks of Klingon space.

He looked so earnest, and Jim found himself staring fixedly at that mouth.

He told himself that maybe if he watched his first officer, he could learn about his habits- his meanings- how to manipulate him- but he payed no mind to those things. His eyes were glued to his first officer’s face for another reason altogether- his own comfort.

There was something about the sight tha released the pressure in his lungs, his hand falling from its desperate grip at his throat- landing at his side. 

“Chekhov, you have the conn,” came the velvet voice through the display, and Jim powered it off.

He had to face him. Surely Spock would ask. He had avoided the entire shift, with no explanation, and he was still in their quarters, sitting with slightly irritated eyes.

~~~

Spock did not question him, but instead spoke of Commander Sulu, who had not appeared for duty that morning.

"I believe his sickbay report was falsified, Captain,"

“Do you know the reason for his absence?”

“Yes,”

_Vulcans do not lie._

“Why, Mr. Spock?”

“I believe he feared for his own safety, sir.” That certainly could not have been a smirk on his Vulcans face. That complicated three patterned flash- smugness, protectiveness and then guilt-could surely not show itself in such eyes, eyes he did not wish to imagine could emote like that.

Jim did not know why, but he imagined almost with pride the most recent of such obvious flickers. That look he had elicited when he raised his hand into the air, his eyes lightly closed- almost looking as though he were sleeping, trusting- his hand...

It was almost unconscious- he had decided he wanted to exploit Spock’s emotion in that moment, make him feel- and he had known exactly what to do- as if playing a part he knew his first longed for...

“Why did he fear?”

“I have become aware that Commander Sulu was involved in an altercation last night.”

_Vulcans do not lie._

“Are you aware of what it was over?”

“Rank, sir.”

“Then he should manage his problems more efficiently. I am surprised he did not have a legitimate reason to visit sickbay.”

Spock walked over to the replicator and typed in the code for his tea.

_The man is petrified, Jim.He thinks you know what he has done, and that I am your dog._

_Perhaps I am, Jim, although in a way you are mine, as you constantly remind me. I bound by propriety, you bound by strength, by a plan you cannot control._

_That, and your own traitorous heart._

_Your eyes are not fully dry, Jim.   
_  
As the tea came out of the replicator, he turned and sat at the table, letting the steam compensate for the temperature in his quarters, which he had set for Jim's comfort. _  
_

“ Data for tomorrow’s navigation, Commander?” asked his Captain.

“The odds are 31.4 percent that we will not encounter an engagement.”

“What are the odds that we make it without significant issue, Commander?”

“48 percent, sir.” _The odds are higher if you come to the bridge._

“Once again your foolhardy plan amounts to suicide.”

“I refer to an incident that could be quickly managed with the tantalus field, Jim.”

“Oh, _dear_ , why thank you.” The words were thick with sarcasm. “Do leave me the privilege, Commander,” he whispered evilly, leaning foreword.

Jim suddenly got the mental image of being unable to kill a band of Klingons, of bending weak and broken, unable to function, even being completely separated from his prey.

His subordinates, seeing his tears, and Sulu drawing his knife- an evil glint in his eyes as he watched Kirk’s breakdown.

He did not move, his face not betraying his discomfort. “You know how I look foreword to these things, _dear_.”

________

  
  
Jim was curled in a ball, shuddering with fear.

His hands were clutching the sheets under him, as he turned upwards, and uttered a word.

“Spock,” he said, desperately. Spock’s meditation was cut short by the horrible sound- lonely and terrified.

“You’re killing me,” he muttered. “I cannot kill you and you’re killing me slowly,” he was flinching and shuttering, face bright with sweat. “Why don’t you do it now, Spock? Why don’t you spare me the humiliation?”

His hand raised into the air above him, trembling, as though cupping an invisible face in his hands.

“Spock? Stay with me, dear,“ the word is not the same as it was before- it is filled with a desperate sincerity. Jim clings to him, loves him-

Dear, _stay with me_.

You are.

 _Precious_ to me.

Spock cannot not help it. He presses his fingers to the man’s forehead and wills him into a deep sleep.

Jim’s thoughts are soft rivers coursing under his fingertips.

_Please, do not make me show my truth to the world, Spock. You seem determined to wreck me, to leave me empty and broken before you can take my life. Streaked with tears and emptiness and-_

Spock fills Jim with comfort, chasing the thought process away, and allowing himself a single moment to run his fingers slowly through golden hair, as Jim is very much asleep.

“Ashayam, ni’droi’ik nar-tor,”He says , and lowers his beloved’s sleeping form into the covers.

(Ashayam, I am sorry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the Vulcan from [the VLD](https://www.starbase-10.de/vld/main.php?cmd=browsecat&brcat=phrase)


	6. Ni’droi’ik Nar-tor

The Klingons boarded their ship in the night- and Spock heard the sound of boots in the corridor. His first instinct was to stand in front of Jim’s bed and not to wake him- to prevent the intruders from getting near.

Fighting that instinct, he spoke aloud, afraid to touch his captain.

“Sir,”

Jim groaned and shifted.

“Captain, you must wake,”

He woke gracefully even if he cannot sleep so, his eyes opening and his free movements becoming their usual stiff calculations.

“What is it?” The sweetness in his eyes does not die in the precious moment that he rights his mind after sleep. Spock regrets that today he must forgo the daily indulgence of staring into those gorgeous eyes.

That second of innocence is even more fleeting than usual.

“I believe we have been boarded, Captain,” even as he says it, there is the sound of phaser fire from the hallway. Jim sits up straight in bed, and the slide of the machinery signals the door has opened. Sparks burst from the dark, followed by the sound of boots approaching.

“You will pay for this intrusion with your freedom,” comes the voice, like gravel, and Spock stands, resisting the urge to growl.

"Lights to 100%"

He is standing protectively in front of the bed, and Jim is behind him, a phaser in his hand.

“Drop your weapon.” The Klingon is not someone used to disobedience. After a moment, he furthers his statement with declaration. “That fool machine in the adjoining quarters is ours as well,"

Spock can feel his heart swallowed by the words, and he stands straighter, ensuring his charge can not pass him.

Jim tries to push Spock from his stance.

“Jim, please,“ Spock says, trying not to look into those captivating eyes.

“Move,” Jim snarls, and he pushes against his first officer. “That's an order"

His request is cut short by the the reappearance of the threatening voice.

“If you do not relinquish your weapon we will target your companion.”

The leader’s eyes are locked into Spock’s- and Spock knows the message is for him. He reaches down in fluid motion and snaps the weapon from Jim’s hands.

Jim balks. “You bast-“

Spock cuts him off by gripping his hand and dragging him foreword, so that the two stand side by side.

He turns to face Jim, and lifts their hands together like a pair of lover's. Spock's hand covers Jim's in a Vulcan kiss, palms pressed together.

“You-“

“Jim.” It is all he can say- Jim does not understand what this is. He is probably worried that Spock can hear this thoughts, breach his privacy, feel his helplessness.

Spock cannot not help but smile through the telepathic contact, and Jim shivers, looking up with wide eyes that he is trying much too hard to obscure.

“I will ensure that your survive at all costs, Captain. Did I not say so?” He lets the hand fall, and pretends he does not see Jim’s disappointment, Jim’s confusion and fear of his own feelings.

He wants to embrace the man, wants to have that hand again so he can press a kiss to the fingers and the palm, to whisper his sweet love as he bears his beloved backwards onto the bed...

Instead he stands, hand restlessly on the knife in his boot.

“What do you intend to do with us?” He asks defiantly, his dark eyes boring holes into the two Klingons in front of them.

He has some idea. The Klingons intend to take the ship and crew as payment for their transgression. They will be made to pay for breaking the Klingon tradition. A true warrior would crave the honor and release of death.

“Cowards do not have the privilege of asking questions of their captors.”

Those who surrender are cowards in their creed- and though it is this warrior's right to a kill their prisoner- Spock knows he will do anything to prevent it.

He steps foreword and bows deeply before the Klingon party.

“I wish to establish conditions for our surrender.” He is almost whispering. He can feel Jim stepping behind him, and he whispers, "Please, Jim,"

The sound does not stop, and so Spock is forced to stand, pinning his beloved, gripping his wrists and forcing his hands behind his back.

"Jim," he cannot stop saying the name, his emotion swaying near the line of his control, his breaking point.

He pushes the captain to the wall near the head of the bed, pausing almost as if to show he does not want to be rough, does not want to take control away from Jim or see the current look in those eyes, empty and pleading and so desperate for the safety of power, even if it is cruel.

He is wrapping his sash around his Captain’s wrists, binding him to the side of the bed, and turning to face the Klingons.

“If you do not allow me this concession, I will fight you to the death.” His face is empty with sadness and pure rage, the emotions forcing his features straight with their power, like cold fire.

It is the strange intense nothing in his eyes as he bows, this time taking to his knees.

“Do not kill my Captain,” he whispers, fear gripping his heart and hurt in his chest.

Do not kill my Ashayam, do not hurt him. Please, you may-

you may do anything to me.

“Do not hurt him, treat him well.”

“We agree to your proposal, and we take your surrender.”

~~

Jim is bound with his hands over his head, and Spock returns to him to undo the sash.

"Spock?" he whispers. He must be dreaming, so perhaps he ought simply to reach out and this reality will be as broken as the last was.

"Stay with me, dear, you who kills me slowly." he cannot reach out, his hands are tied, but as Spock leans foreword to undo the bonds, he halts the motion by leaning forward and kissing him.

It is sweet and desperate, tired, lost, confused and wet with unshed tears. His first officer pushes foreword to return it, love and mourning in his eyes.

It is almost chaste but strong and filled with sorrow. Jim savors the warm feeling of those lips, they are the sensation of safety, soft and unlike anything else he has ever felt. He wants his hands to be free so he can circle his arms around Spock's neck, bury his face in his shoulder and have Spock stroke his hair.

He knows his first officer will watch over him, and so he must stay with him, he must bury himself into that softness so that he will never wake up.

_Ashayam, ni’droi’ik nar-tor_

It is not until Jim is dragged away that he realizes that this is not a dream, and he has kissed his first officer, and he will be treated with preference because of his first officer's sacrifice. He has based his safety on other's loss before, but never has anyone stood and said with such certainty that they will break the cardinal rule of the empire, that they-

he can feel the warmth on his lips as he begins to cry.


	7. Treat You Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter ~

Jim was thrown into empty quarters, onto the ground next to a bed. He half crawled into a kneeling position, where he silently cried, tears streaming down his face.

_Oh, God._

He could not find words for his feelings, disbelief overpowering them into cold shock- confused love tied with fear, and anger, and affection, powerful, blooming affection. That affection was covered with loss.

Oh, if only he could lay with his first officer, on top of those shoulders, be as close as he could and damn the consequences. He craved a look at that face, to run his finger along the line of a rare smile, or even to feel the tears wiped from his eyes by a tender hand. Even that sweet little raised eyebrow when he was impressed, the feel of his presence behind the captain's chair.

_Indeed._

Damn whoever knew, if he could do those things, if he could remain with his first officer, he would be content for the world to swallow him.

Now he felt surely that it was inevitable, that he was and had been consumed, his soul pulled to the kind figure that watched over him, a silent assurance. No matter the situation, he would have been drawn to this feeling, would have been smitten even before Spock's heart wrenching kindness, the look he had given Jim before he pulled back, the warmth on Jim's lips fading as his realization dawned.

He loved him. Wanted to drag him down and speak his anger into a fierce kiss, hiss that Spock would never sacrifice himself again, that Jim would die if he could see his first officer live, those chocolate eyes that felt so much, that compassionate heart that twisted around him and drowned his in only it, he wanted to wrap his arms so hard around his first's neck that he would remain there forever...

There was a click and swish as the door to his quarters was opened again

"We are honor bound to treat you well," said the first voice, as it's owner stepped foreword and gripped one of his arms.

"and so we will release you," said the second Klingon who had flanked the first, reaching for the other arm.

"We will send you back to your people," said the first, and Jim felt his abdomen constrict.

The sentence was certain death.


	8. Shi’masu

Jim pulled a knife from the sheath on the guards boot and plunged it into the Klingon’s thigh. He heard a howl as the Klingon’s free hand connected with his head, and his vision spun. The world around him shook, but he managed to reach down and retrieve the knife.

There was something in his heart that drove him foreword, as he stomped on the injured leg and cracked the pilots collarbone with the hardest blow he had ever thrown in his life. His knuckles stung and he could barely hear his own breathing, but his concentration pulled him. His heart was thumping against his chest.

He was in a pod that was only a short way away from _the Enterprise_ , and he was fighting for their lives like he never had, against two physically superior Klingons.

They could not quench the desperate fire of his heart.The pods progress sputtered as the pilot bent over, recovering from his recent blow, his hand pressed against his collar bone, and Jim threw the knife into his chest with such deadly accuracy that he slumped over onto the console, the pod halting and the lights flickering under his weight.

The boy smiled a nightmarish, human smile as the glow blinked into nothing around him, as he was surrounded by the nothingness of space through the large window, his teeth glinting and his eyes flashing with the dying flickers.

He was foreword like a shot.

~~

Jim felt something he could not identify, his heart pounding in his chest as he wielded the bloody knife in his fist.

It was different than killing ever had been before, he felt a strange arid combination of relief and sadness, as he pushed the newly made corpse off him and stepped to the console, prying the dead navigator off.

Ought I to say I am sorry?

He slowly raised the lever and the lights returned, the navigation system humming to life.

He turned the pod around, towards the ship. He had nothing- two knives that he had stolen from his guards, and a pod that he could escape in- but these were negligible- he had won against the Klingons with the power of his desperation- any number of them could reliably detain him instantly.

Disregarding the danger, he opened the pod door and stepped almost completely unarmed into an enemy ship  
~~

As Jim made his way into Spock’s cell, he was instantly stopped by the sound his beloved made- it was despairing and pleading at once. Spock was lying on the ground with his arms bound behind his back, staring at him with an urgent expression.

“Jim!” his first officer had almost never spoken with such volume “you must go immediately, Jim!”

Jim resisted the urge to lift and embrace the bound man. Instead he whispered “I’m not leaving, Spock,”

“If we fight back, your safety-“

“They were already planning to turn me in to the empire,”

“Then go, take a pod out of here, they could-“

Jim was surprisedin that moment by his own smile. “I could use your navigational skills, Commander. Go on then, calculate the odds of my surviving in space without you.”

Spock's eyes were fixed on his face, still wide and sorrowful.

“Kiss me again, Captain.”

And oh, Jim did, slowly, pushing his first officer into a sitting position and then backwards into the wall, his fingers stroking a lock of black hair that was ruffled, hands pausing before traveling down his shoulders and onto his arms- leaving a soft trail of comfort and electricity. Spock was being held as though he were precious, the feeling of relief spreading through his body like a restorative.

He wanted to lean forward and capture Jim with a kiss, so softly that he would bloom, that that hazel would shimmer with joy and Jim would smile, his presence would glow. He wanted to touch those delicate eyelashes, blond and so sweet...

Spock knew he could not keep this, but he felt Jim’s presence like a starving man, a man who had been brought forward from the brink of death and given sustenance.

“I thought I would never see you again,” he mouthed into Jim’s fervent kisses, and Jim pulled back softly. Spock illogically wanted to reach forward and cup his face, to feel his heart, hold their minds together as they had always meant to be held.

I cherish thee, all you are.

Instead he spoke. “go, leave me, ashayam.” The last word was a whisper, and his eyes fluttered shut.

Jim did not heed Spock’s words. Instead, he pulled Spock foreword and braced a hand on his back, using the other to rub the tension from of his shoulders.

“I lost my knife getting here,” he said. “But I’ll manage a way,”

“You will go, you cannot risk your life,” he fought to keep the desperation from his voice, and yet he could not bear-

“May I carry you?”

“Might I remind you that Vulcans are significantl-“ but Jim had reached down and pulled Spock up towards him, so that Spock was nestled into his shoulder.

“Spock,” he said, and his arms traveled down, around his beloved’s waist- encircling him in such a gentle embrace that he closed his eyes and buried his face into his captain’s neck.

“I need your navigational skills, remember? I could never make it anywhere alone. That’s an order Commander, you will come with me.”

"the odds of you escaping this ship are much lower if you take me," he found himself speaking despite the fact that his head was buried in the soft skin of Jim's exposed shoulder. "Jim, why?" he was sleepy, they had given him something to decrease his Vulcan strength, and he felt himself slump against his Captain.

"Oh, commander, it was logical," there was sweet delight in the Captain's voice as he hoisted his Vulcan up and steadied himself to say the words "It is logical to preserve that which is precious to you," he said, and with that, he stepped towards the pod in which they would make their escape.  
~~

Spock felt himself being lowered softly into the floor, his head lolling over his shoulder. He could see his Ashayam run to the controls and order the door shut with obvious urgency, watching the hallway with alert eyes that spoke of his experience- a fire burning in him as he yanked the controls forward. The pod spun violently away from it’s ship, and Kirk began to relax as he finalized his modifications.

He came over, and his urgency was instantly refocused.

“Commander?”

“I am simply-” Spock forced his head up and his voice steady “Very tired. I have not slept for three weeks, Captain, and I cannot maintain my wakefulness with the added influence of this drug...”

Kirk sat next to him and leaned his head against his shoulder.

“Well, the Klingons rudely interrupted my rest as well, Commander. And... I was unaware you were keeping such diligent guard over me.” He felt an arm slide behind him, reaching around him, holding him, and his ashayam was asleep, rising and falling against his chest.

Spock tried to ignore the illogical pleasure that filled him, and almost managed to stifle the soft purr that escaped him before his own head fell and his breathing evened.

He woke to the steady hum of an engine, and the feeling of Jim sleeping on his chest. He was afraid to move, lest he disturb his t’hyla, but the point was rendered moot when he looked down again to see those hazel eyes gazing up at him.

He registered dimly that his hands were numb, still bound securely behind his back, and one of Jim’s hand rose off the ground to touch Spock’s palm tenderly. He spoke softly-

“I forgot about your hands, Commander-“

“Do not apologize, Jim.”

“They have... please accept my apologies,” Jim said. He kneeled and turned, ripping the metal terran empire shield off his chest and beginning to work on Spock’s wrists.

“Jim?”

“Yes?”

Although it was illogical to express thanks, Spock found himself trying to find a method of doing so. He repressed the urge to fall foreword and take in Jim’s smell, close his eyes and drink in that sweet essence that drifted through the air.

He fought illogical impulse.

 _You are alive_ , he wanted to say- and if his arms were free he would have fought the wish to gather Jim to his chest.

It was illogical to imagine that Jim could avoid danger forever- he had enlisted Jim in a deadly mission- in order to accomplish the goal that now seemed distant- they had to at least utilize each other’s skills.

Yet, against the illogic, his mind was chanting.

_I will hold you to me forever, keep you safe, see freedom in your eyes- so that you may never kill again, so that you may never feel the crush of a life beneath your unyielding hand. I will do it all for you- destroy the world if I may keep you safe and feel you... feel you close to me- feel the rise and fall of you as you sleep- and the whisper of your breath in my ear..._

_Come, be near me and I shall keep you safe for as long as I exist..._

It was not the first time he had felt this- but now it raced through him with such urgency that he could feel his pulse heighten and his breathing quicken. Jim looked up from his work-

And Spock was unable to keep the shine from his eyes as they met Jim’s.

“Are you alright?... Spock?” Something broke in that voice- and Jim’s beautiful features held the weight of the name. Spock. “Are you alright, Spock?”

“I am well, Jim.” He beamed with his eyes, against his better judgement, against the now almost nonexistent voice in his head that protested the illogic.

The ropes broke- and Spock brought his hands foreword, filled with a pressing urge to reach, to touch Jim’s psi points..

It gripped him, so powerful that he was forced to bring his hands to his sides- but Jim reached for one and cradled in gently in his palm.

“I am sorry if I injured you,” he almost whispered, and he brought it into the air. Spock's fingers felt nimble and suddenly perfectly well- they tingled with warmth as he submitted to the touch.

Jim turned the hand in his grip, delicately as if it were precious- orienting the knuckles close to his mouth- closing his eyes and simply holding it there.

Spock pushed his hand foreword, running his knuckles softly across Jim’s cheekbone, instantly regretting the choice.

He is breathing so fast that he has to pull back, his hands yearning to find Jim’s mind.

His heart is screaming- he tries to move away, but he smashes roughly into the wall- and Jim, understanding, reluctantly stands.

Spock is sure that his eyes are wide open- his feelings plain.

“So.. Commander, we ought to find out where we are,”

“Affirmative, Captain,” Spock takes a moment to open his mouth and speak.

He stands, brushing dust off of himself, and steps to the control panel.

“It appears we have made it out of Klingon space- but that does not clear us from potential enemies- and now we must consider the decision of whether we should reenter. I believe it would be wise to consider our moves against the empire without leaving it’s territory.”

“Do you refer to the fact that I can kill a human whereas I have no chance against a Klingon? Despite the flawed reasoning, I agree,”

Spock raised one eyebrow “flawed-“

Kirk interrupted him. “we must keep moving- even with it being redundant. Plot a course for wherever you like, Mr. Spock,”

“Acknowledged, Captain,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan from the [the VLD](https://www.starbase-10.de/vld/)


	9. “Please”

_Doctor McCoy protests at Jim’s foolhardiness, as if he is aptly concealing his concern- and Jim sits upright in the cot, unable to relax for even a moment._

_“I submit to your physicals, but I am not obliged to do likewise with your command, Officer” he uses his best Captain’s voice- soft and deadly, but Bones practically smiles as he ignores Jim’s threatening tenor._

_Jim hungers to be free, like a chained animal- he sees the white sheets as ties and he is determined, in the Terran spirit, to endure at all costs._

_Endure._

_He stands, an air of authority about him, and he turns to the door._ _“If you wish to further abuse your station, I advise you to do so in writing, where you will not so easily incur the wrath of your superiors,”_

_And Jim steps out, resisting the urge to grip his knife._

_He can see the white sheets of the medical station on Tarsus, and his brother fading before him as he feels the choke of the last plea on his lips._

_A bright spot mars the expanse of white, and.._

_Never again will he ask for anything- never again will he beg._

—-

Jim has his arms wrapped so hard around his first officers shoulders that he is shaking with pent up fervor, filled with a desperate desire not to loose him.

“Spock,” he whispers, pulling Spock so close that he can barely breathe, because oh, what he feels, the soft brush of Spock’s breath against his neck, the sweet pulse ofSpock’s heart at his side.

“Jim,”

A warm hand cups the back of his head, ever so gently holding him despite the ridiculous strength pouring through Jim’s arms- reverence and reliance encapsulated in his overzealousness

Oh god, Spock, I love you.

“Please,” Jim says- and he addresses the ground.

His words are to the god that murdered his brother, the god he knows he cannot trust, although he opens his exposed, trembling heart, his eyes fluttering open, head resting against Spock’s shoulder, heart pounding so hard his breath is stolen.

he whispers, “Stay with me,”

His entire body is warm with the joy he can almost feel radiating from Spock’s skin, relief, sweetness and humanity that nearly has him in tears, his eyes blessedly hidden...

“Of course, ashayam,”

And Jim is _pleading.._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will definitely be a sequel to this, but since I do not write in chronological order, I have to finish it before I can start posting.  
> Thanks so much for reading!😊


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